


Depression Took That Too

by kizkhalifa



Series: Training For The Ballet, Potter? [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Drarry, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 22:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kizkhalifa/pseuds/kizkhalifa
Summary: Anon asked: Can we get some short Drarry?Answer: Sure. Always. I love Drarry. We allll know this! ~kizEdit after writing: So damn this one got away from me. Like holy hell, I won't lie I am in my feelings and I had a bad week. And this happened. So, buckle up. ~ kiz//A/n: [Oneshot from a tumblr prompt. No beta.]
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Training For The Ballet, Potter? [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/997332
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Depression Took That Too

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: Can we get some short Drarry?
> 
> Answer: Sure. Always. I love Drarry. We allll know this! ~kiz
> 
> Edit after writing: So damn this one got away from me. Like holy hell, I won't lie I am in my feelings and I had a bad week. And this happened. So, buckle up. ~ kiz  
//
> 
> A/n: [Oneshot from a tumblr prompt. No beta.]

**Draco was a mess, an absolute mess**. He looked it, he felt it... and, if he was honest he smelt it.

It'd been at least four days since he took a proper shower, probably a whole week since he washed his hair. And while cleansing wipes were helpful they didn't compare to 4 days of sweat, oil, dirt... four days of laying in bed and being a mess. Nothing could combat that.

Depression took that from him.

He was sick, something was wrong. Not just something, but, _he_ was wrong. He wasn't okay, he ached, his body was stiff from laying around, his muscles were sore and unused. His head hurt and his throat was raw, he knew he needed to get up and clean himself, to wash his hair and eat something other than the stale crisps that were lying beside him on the bed. The oil staining his sheets and fingers when he would pick at the bag.

But, none of that mattered at the moment. Not as much as it should have, because instead, he looking at Potter, who was looking at him like he was a mess.

"Baby," Harry whispered softly, the drapes were drawn and the only light was from the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table. "You can't do this every time I have to leave."

Draco knew he was right, how could he not be? He couldn't just hide and breakdown every time Harry had to go on missions.

"...so, we'll get you in a shower, and I'll make dinn—."

Draco realized he was talking, still, and tried to focus. But he couldn't, he couldn't focus on anything but the way Harry was looking at him. Like he was disgusting.

"Come on, then?" Harry asked, softly, taking a step closer and watching Draco recoil. "Baby, please."

Draco shook his head, he didn't dare speak. He just hid under his blankets, pulling them close to his body.

Harry stepped closer, slower, and finally, when he was in reach of him he held out his hand. "I'm right here, okay? I'm here," he pressed his hand to his chest, his fingers brushing against his Auror uniform. "Feel me." He rubbed his hand against his chest again, the feel of his uniform rough against his fingertips. He reached out with his other hand for Draco's, prying his grasp from the covers and pulling him towards his chest. "Feel me." Draco grasped at his uniform, weak, urgent fingers gripping at the material.

"Harry," he whispered softly, his voice quiet and raw.

"Right here," Harry answered, a smile forming across his lips. "Hey, baby."

"Harry," Draco whispered again, and again, and again. He whispered it as Harry pulled the covers back and moved him off the bed into his arms, walking slowly to the en-suite and sat him on the edge of the tub. He whispered it as Harry held him steady and started the water, as Harry bent down in front of him and undressed him.

His name falling quietly, softly, like a whisper of wind. And Harry just kept answering him periodically, letting him know he was there.

_Right there._

"Alright, baby, in the shower."

Draco finally looked away from Harry, around their white and gray bathroom, "I can't."

"You can," Harry said encouragingly. "You'll feel better, then dinner, right?"

"Right," Draco answered numbly, feeling Harry's hands - soft, strong, warm - grasp his body and help him up. He helped him into the shower, his hand sliding down his thin back.

"I'll be in the bedroom, let me know if you need anything." Harry tried for another smile, again, watching Draco lean towards the water.

Draco felt him leave, without watching him go. It was as if the ache crept back in. Harry's warmth took it all away, but there it was. It was dark and twisted and gnawed at his gut, he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, praying he could just keep it together.

The water was warm and overwhelming, it wasn't the same type of warmth that Potter gave him. This one hurt, it felt like nails on his skin. He stood there a moment, a rush of magic wrapping around him. Harry's magic. He felt it much more now that his wasn't as strong.

Depression took that from him, too.

He gasped in a breath, it had been too long since he felt that. Harry tended not to use magic much at home anymore to keep Draco comfortable and not risk him feeling worse.

"Harry," Draco said, his voice couldn't compete with the sound of the shower, "Harry," he called again, panic rising inside of him.

_Alone_, he thought, _I'm alone again._

The whole world stilled, Draco frantically trying to get out of the shower to make sure Harry was still there, "Harry," he cried, slipping on the tiles of the shower and tumbling towards the edge, his hands grabbing for the shower wall only to feel them slipping down the side, "Harry!"

Harry was there in an instant, grabbing Draco before he hit the edge of the tub, the cracking noise of his apparition still sounding the air as he held Draco.

"Okay," he whispered, "I'm here." He promised and held Draco close in his arms, he got him up and stepped into the water next to him.

"Your clothes," Draco whispered softly, his cheek brushing against his uniform. Harry didn't say anything, he just helped him stand, holding him close. The water was warm against his body and he loosened his hold on Draco.

"Harry, your clothes..." Draco said again, "your shoes."

"I don't give a fuck about my clothes, Draco!" He snapped, feeling the blonde flinch. It was quiet between them, Draco staring at Harry's shoes, the man before him pulling in a breath to calm down. "Soap," he said as if trying to remind himself why he _was_ standing in the middle of a shower, fully clothed. He moved slowly, Draco froze before him and grabbed the washcloth and soap. He washed his body methodically as if he had done this a million times before...because he had. Anytime he came back from a trip, anytime Draco had his days, this was always the end result. Harry was always there to clean him up, literally.

He moved through the motions slowly, silently. Washing Draco, kneeling to get his legs and feet, then back up to wash his hair and face. Draco didn't move unless Harry moved him.

Depression took that from him, too.

And then Harry turned the water off, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Draco like a blanket before pulling him into his arms and stepping out of the tub. Draco laid in his arms, his eyes worried as he scanned Harry's face.

"Tea?" Harry asked, putting Draco on the edge of their bed.

Draco nodded.

"Okay," Harry used his wand to get another towel and dried Draco off. His hands working quickly to ensure the man was dry and warm before he got his clothing. He said, "don't move," though he didn't need to. Where would Draco go?

Once he was dressed, Harry knelt before him as he slipped his socks on, Draco reached out and caressed Harry's wet hair, looking around the now clean and brightly lit room. Realizing that was what Harry's magic had been for.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Harry said softly, nuzzling Draco's hand.

"It's not your fault."

"It is my fault." Harry frowned, "I know you get fixated when you're in this state."

Draco nodded, looking away, so he couldn't see the disgust on Harry's face.

Harry sighed, internally, taking his chin and directing him back, "baby, stop turning away from me." He pleaded softly, "I'm right here."

"I don't want to see the way you look at me."

Harry had heard it a million times, but it never ceased to hurt him. "I look at you like I love you, Draco, always. That's it."

Draco opened his eyes, recognizing the love in those green eyes, a small smile forming.

Depression took that from him, too.

"I can make tea?"

"You can make tea," Harry agreed, standing and giving him some space, "why don't you go look at our reserves and tell me what you want for dinner? I'll change."

"Okay," Draco stood up, excitedly, "I'll make tea."

"You make tea," Harry watched him walk from the room, a little happier than when he had got back.

And the moment that door was closed Harry sunk down to the ground, grabbing the towel Draco had just used and held it to his mouth to muffle his cries.

_Draco. Draco. Draco. Draco._

Depression took that from him, too.


End file.
